Quotes About Emotion

An artist is like a woman who can do nothing but love, and who succumbs to every stray male jackass.

What lies lurk in kisses.

The Wedding March always reminds me of the music played when soldiers go into battle.

On wings of song, my dearest,I will carry you off.

Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows one's nose.

Where words leave off, music begins.

The music at a wedding procession always reminds me of the music of soldiers going into battle.

Agape mou,' he began in a voice husky with emotion. 'You crept beneath my skin, affected me as no other woman did, or ever will, and you invaded my heart, my soul. Until you became the very air I breathe. You. Only you.

not answering. His eyes darkened. "I don't

I looked at this polite little sentence & sat crying on the bed —

Fear of this order is not an emotion. It is like a virus overwhelming every cell of his body, while his mind struggles to remain clear.

I know I love her, but I can't find the feeling.

O Lyric Love, half angel and half bird, And all a wonder and a wild desire! Robert Browning

People live for love. They kill for love. They die for love. They have songs, poems, novels, sculptures, paintings, myths, legends. It's one of the most powerful brain systems on Earth for both great joy and great sorrow.

Romantic love is an obsession. It possesses you. You lose your sense of self. You can't stop thinking about another human being.

Romantic love is not an emotion. … It's a drive. It comes from the motor of the mind, the wanting part of the mind, the craving part of the mind.

We need food. We need water. We need warmth. And the lover feels he/she needs the beloved. Plato had it right over two thousand years ago. The god of love "lives in a state of need."41

Scientists are beginning to pinpoint the brain regions that become active when one feels fusion with a "higher power," such as God.36 Perhaps this brain region is also involved in love.

Suddenly a frenzied high-pitched shriek behind us. Henry Klein, a stocky survivor from Dniepa, had burst into wild, piercing sobs. Turning away from us, he began to howl Kaddish, his voice shrill. His children stood by, stunned. He was doubled over now, hands on

Whatever it was that possessed him, he wouldn't have said it was love for that was a word outside his vocabulary. He just felt what he felt and the wind seemed less bitter and the sun brighter because of it.

Love is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

The story of a love is not important. What is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

the poetic moment is a static one. It's watching through a window while the action happens elsewhere. And then the poet turns away from the window because the poem is done ... It cannot unflinchingly stare grief down. At some point, by necessity, or design, it must turn away.

With her right index finger she slowly spells words on Grace's skin. Don't let me go crazy. The moon is pale and vast. The stars so sharp they almost hurt.